Sunday, August 7, 2011
Ignoring her, I roll over and continue to read. Beamer, nicknamed for her sunny personality, harbors a dark side.
The Orcs are after the Hobbits when my sister throws herself against the bedroom wall. The paneling reverberates against her skinny back and I lose my concentration.
Glaring, I snap my book shut and sit up on the bed.
A sly smile crosses her face. "Stop it," She screams, throwing her shoulder against the door, "you're killing me."
Jaw dropping, I gape.
"Ow. Stop punching. That hurts." Beamer is grinning and tossing a one sister fit. She flops across the bed. "Owww..."
Dad bursts through the door, grabs my collar in both fists and I rise through the air. Nose to nose, his dark brows knit in anger, he looks from my startled face to Beamer's.
She giggles and siddles to the door, then sprints down the stairs.
He sighs and sets me on my feet.
After a moment I flop back to the bed and open my book. At thirteen, I'd rather hang out with Trollocks